Tis the Season

I. Love. Ducks.

Tis the Season

Tis the season to wander around parking lots because you forgot where you parked your vehicle. Merry Wandering!

While searching for our maroon 5000 pound Tundra in the vastness of parking space another wanderer hunted me. I keep a sense of vulnerable awareness for these wanderers in parking lots. Because they stalk you. And you can't tell what species they are until they speak. Some haven't eaten in days. Some need bus fare. Some need gas money, and their car isn't parked here, persay. Some are angry. Some are high. Some are mentally struggling. Some smoke. Some don't. Some have amazing stories of why they are where they are and how you can help facilitate some sort of miracle. Some have props like dogs, or children, or a limp. These are smart people coming up with intriguing story lines. Some work hours wandering the same parking lot trying to earn a living and you will be met multiple times while searching for your vehicle. Tis the season.

I keep it simple this time of season. "NO." In fact, I say no before the wanderer's shows get underway. Just, no.

"Excuse me Ma'am."

"No." I keep moving, and they will follow a few steps or more depending on the species of wanderer.

And you know, now that I think about it, they used to call me Miss. "Excuse me Miss." When did that change happen? Probably while I was wandering wondering where I parked 5000 pounds of maroon truck. But even when I was a Miss rather than a Ma'am I was still answering, no. Granted as a Miss I would take time for the wanderer's show. I would hear them out, watch their presentation and process their need by weighing my guilt.

Then Ma'am happened, and no. Just no.

It is ironic however, that after returning home I find a group of ducks all saying "Excuse me Miss!"

And I'm running into the house to get popcorn underway, while filling up a yellow bucket with fresh water to bring out to them in our backyard duck parking lot. I act quickly. I engage with them, laugh with them and listen. I serve food and water and a few moments of time.

I'll come into my home and find piggles and a bun and eight parrots all calling, "Excuse me Miss!" And I'll fall all over myself to accommodate and share their satisfaction.

I can without hesitation state why I am a Miss with companions, wild and kept, and a Ma'am with the wanderers of the parking lots. A duck is simply and sincerely a duck. They have no stories to tell. A parrot is sincerely your companion and sees the whole as part of themselves. Piggles are innocents born to live on the edge of starvation and death. Their purpose is to remind you that adorable trumps all else. Or something like that, that could just be Werthers.

And a Bun is your overlord. Just suck that one up.

I think on this time of year and remember that to all companions wild or kept, it's simply a season and they will be and offer back exactly what they did yesterday and what they will tomorrow. Because animals are too sincere and intelligent to make up stories as a narration to their wonderful animal lives. They just are. And that is good enough.

As long as the popcorn, pistachios, walnuts, blueberries, and kibble don't run out. They do have standards.

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